The Boy Who Died
by AlexNameless
Summary: What would Harry Potter be like without Harry Potter? What if Harry Potter died as a boy? How would that effect the wizarding world and what would happen as a result? This fanfic is my attempt at answering that question. Slytherin-centric.


Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Died

A nine-year-old boy with unruly black hair and emerald green eyes was bodily shoved out the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive. The boy named Harry Potter stumbled and fell, and scrambled to right himself and face his uncle. "Get out of my sight, boy!" Yelled his uncle, a whale of a man whose face had turned purple with anger, pointing a chubby finger in the face of the cowering, shaking kid on the ground in front of him. "I told you, no more of your freak tricks. And what did you do?!"

Harry's voice trembled as he answered him, eyes glued to the floor in fear. "I did it again." He had been running from Dudley and his two friends, Piers and Malcolm, one second and the next he had inexplicably appeared on the school rooftop. Fire trucks had come to get him own and his face was all over the local news.

"Exactly! And this time, you didn't just dye your teacher's hair blue. No this time, you humiliated our entire family!" Harry trembled and nodded mutely, crying and hiccupping. His cheek was sore and would bruise later where Vernon had hit him. He'd never been hit before. "You are to sit here and think about what you've done, boy. And maybe when I'm not ready to beat you into next week, I'll let you back in!"

Vernon retreated back into the house and slammed the door shut behind him. He heard the lock click and got a sinking feeling in his gut. "Uncle Vernon?" he called. No answer, no footsteps approaching the door again. Because he didn't trust his own perception of events, he tried to open the door but it wouldn't give. He had really locked him out. He felt his throat close up and his body tensed he sniffled as tears flowed down his pale cheeks once again. _'I didn't mean to be a freak, Uncle Vernon.'_

He sat on the steps and waited, and waited, and waited. The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of yellow, orange, and red. His stomach was gnawing at his insides he was so hungry. He hadn't eaten since his school lunch – peanut butter and jelly, a stick of string cheese, a bag of baby carrots, and a banana with a bottle of water. It was his favorite meal of the day because it was his most filling meal. For breakfast all he got was toast and at dinner Dudley never let him eat more than a plate full and the moment Dudley started pitching a fit and fake crying, his aunt and uncle would make him stop whatever he was doing that was provoking his cousin. They always sided with his cousin, never with him. _Why am I such a freak? What did I ever do? Why can't I just be good?_ He started crying again and rubbed at his eyes desperately. The cold November breeze made him shiver and he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to conserve heat. He was still wearing the white button up, blue jumper, and black trousers from his primary school uniform and still he was cold. He was always cold.

Soon night fell and the crescent moon lit up the sky. He got up and let his feet lead him to the local park a few blocks down. It had a set of swings across from two slides with a set of steps and monkey bars between them and a big dome jungle gym in the middle. He sat down on one of the benches on the edge of the playground, and just as he was getting settled in a fat grey field rat appeared. "Scabbers!" He smiled, his cheeks swollen and red with tears, at his only friend in the whole wide world. He had saved him from being eaten by one of Ms. Figg's cats. He didn't know where he lived, but he always seemed to find him quickly and easily at the park. He reached out a hand and petted Scabbers. "Thanks for coming, Scabbers. My aunt and uncle kicked me out for the night. Well, maybe longer…it depends how long Uncle Vernon is mad." His face fell and his chest tightened. "You'll keep me company, won't you? I don't want to sleep out here all alone." He knew the rat understood him, it was just as smart as Ms. Figg's cats. The rat squeaked and nuzzled his hand. "Thanks." He laid down and tried to make himself comfortable on the bench, and Scabbers adjusted himself and curled up against his chest.

TIMESKIP

It was all over the papers the morning after next. "Surrey boy killed in local park!" and "The Boy Who Lived Has Been Murdered" respectively made headlines all over. The quiet little town of Surrey was in an uproar. A nine year old boy was found stabbed to death, his body stuffed in the park's garbage bin and the park bench he'd been sleeping on was covered in blood. The police had cordoned off the park entirely and were conducting interview after interview with the locals at the station. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were arrested the evening after the incident on charges of endangering a child and child neglect. Their nine year old son Dudley was taken into care by a social worker, sputtering and crying and reaching out for his parents as they were put in the back of the policeman's car. A few outfits, a photograph, and a few belongings had been stuffed in a black garbage bag by the social worker and put in the back of her little white car with the boy.

In the magical world, Albus Dumbledore was in trouble. The Boy Who Lived was dead and his bedroom was found to be nothing but a hall closet with a lock on it. He had enough on his mind trying to unravel how Lord Voldemort had supposedly attained immortality – if rumors were to be believed, anyways. All that could be said for certain was that something was tying Tom's soul to this world, because the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was still cursed, the Death Eaters arms still marked, and the Gaunt family home was still inexplicably unapproachable.

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Author's Note: I know this chapter is a really badly written chapter. I might edit it and write it out more instead of telling it, summarizing it, like this, but not now. If you want to know what I consider my headcanon prologue, go read Chapter 1 and 2 of my other fanfic, Make Them Hurt. It explains Harry being picked up and given to the Dursleys. But I don't believe I'm allowed to edit and repost that fanfic's chapters 1 and 2 again on this fanfic, so I'm not going to do that. But if your interested, read them. Just know that I don't think I'll be revisiting the Dursleys so its really just for context. What do you all think? What do you all want and/or expect to see, now that I've killed off Harry?


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